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Akhmad kept to himself as he ate – both in action and in thought. He had grown into a life where he was forced to ensure that every inch of him was hidden from view at any one time. And whilst he always ensured that his peripheral vision secured his safety and was aware of his surroundings, when it was eating his main focus was elsewhere. Was the line of his mask in place? Was the movement of his hands and mouth beneath the covering setting it shaking or revealing the edges of his cheeks on either side? Was it tugging the piece down to show more of his nose that it should? His perceptions of what was important altered when he ate and when he slept, for he had to be careful that all subconscious movement did not reveal something of his skin that was not what he wished to become public knowledge.
The only surprise that caused him to look up was the sudden sound of a voice. Female and deep for a woman but not unpleasant for it, he looked up to spy the redhead bent over a bow and murmuring what he knew to be a prayer. Whilst his Greek was a little on the rusty side, he was able enough to pick up upon the pertinent verbs and nouns and piece together the fact that she was praying to the Grecian Goddess of the Hunt, blessing and thanking her for ensuring that she had had a meal to eat that night.
The Greeks were a funny sort of people. With so many Gods and Goddesses to honour, it was astounding that they could not see the hypocritical nature of their faith. If there was one being with one mind controlling all then by all means, thank them for the life that had been put before you. But if your Gods held only the power and sway over one small element of your life: your fires, your love, your skills with a bow… Then how were they worthy of thanks when another of their divine brethren might easily quash such a skill. By ensuring that the animals you were intending to hunt were decimated ahead of time, by sending the waves to douse all flames. It was surely at the permission of all the other Gods that the one you were praying to had offered you anything of value. And if that were the case – that your divine being was held to the restrictions of every single other one within a pantheon of nearly a hundred… they weren’t exactly that powerful, now were they?
Not one to lord or chastise someone for their personal faith or life choices, however (for he was sure that there were many to make such comments upon his own), Akhmad allowed the girl to pray without interruption, only the soft crunch of the onion beneath his mask and the scent of its broken layers seeping into the air around them.
Once the vegetable was entirely consumed – for there seemed little point in leaving its core as one might an apple – Akhmad brought his hand down from beneath his mask and rubbed his fingers together in order to (initially) spark the scent stronger, and then rub from his skin the residue that would leave them scented of onion. He avoided using his rags for a means of cleaning his fingers, else he risked smelling of onion for the next few weeks.
Looking about the enclosure, listening to the sound of night birds that had come out to shrill into the darkness, Akhmad licked his lips behind his mask, his light eyes intense. Unlike most, he was content to simply sit in the quiet of midnight hush.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Akhmad kept to himself as he ate – both in action and in thought. He had grown into a life where he was forced to ensure that every inch of him was hidden from view at any one time. And whilst he always ensured that his peripheral vision secured his safety and was aware of his surroundings, when it was eating his main focus was elsewhere. Was the line of his mask in place? Was the movement of his hands and mouth beneath the covering setting it shaking or revealing the edges of his cheeks on either side? Was it tugging the piece down to show more of his nose that it should? His perceptions of what was important altered when he ate and when he slept, for he had to be careful that all subconscious movement did not reveal something of his skin that was not what he wished to become public knowledge.
The only surprise that caused him to look up was the sudden sound of a voice. Female and deep for a woman but not unpleasant for it, he looked up to spy the redhead bent over a bow and murmuring what he knew to be a prayer. Whilst his Greek was a little on the rusty side, he was able enough to pick up upon the pertinent verbs and nouns and piece together the fact that she was praying to the Grecian Goddess of the Hunt, blessing and thanking her for ensuring that she had had a meal to eat that night.
The Greeks were a funny sort of people. With so many Gods and Goddesses to honour, it was astounding that they could not see the hypocritical nature of their faith. If there was one being with one mind controlling all then by all means, thank them for the life that had been put before you. But if your Gods held only the power and sway over one small element of your life: your fires, your love, your skills with a bow… Then how were they worthy of thanks when another of their divine brethren might easily quash such a skill. By ensuring that the animals you were intending to hunt were decimated ahead of time, by sending the waves to douse all flames. It was surely at the permission of all the other Gods that the one you were praying to had offered you anything of value. And if that were the case – that your divine being was held to the restrictions of every single other one within a pantheon of nearly a hundred… they weren’t exactly that powerful, now were they?
Not one to lord or chastise someone for their personal faith or life choices, however (for he was sure that there were many to make such comments upon his own), Akhmad allowed the girl to pray without interruption, only the soft crunch of the onion beneath his mask and the scent of its broken layers seeping into the air around them.
Once the vegetable was entirely consumed – for there seemed little point in leaving its core as one might an apple – Akhmad brought his hand down from beneath his mask and rubbed his fingers together in order to (initially) spark the scent stronger, and then rub from his skin the residue that would leave them scented of onion. He avoided using his rags for a means of cleaning his fingers, else he risked smelling of onion for the next few weeks.
Looking about the enclosure, listening to the sound of night birds that had come out to shrill into the darkness, Akhmad licked his lips behind his mask, his light eyes intense. Unlike most, he was content to simply sit in the quiet of midnight hush.
Akhmad kept to himself as he ate – both in action and in thought. He had grown into a life where he was forced to ensure that every inch of him was hidden from view at any one time. And whilst he always ensured that his peripheral vision secured his safety and was aware of his surroundings, when it was eating his main focus was elsewhere. Was the line of his mask in place? Was the movement of his hands and mouth beneath the covering setting it shaking or revealing the edges of his cheeks on either side? Was it tugging the piece down to show more of his nose that it should? His perceptions of what was important altered when he ate and when he slept, for he had to be careful that all subconscious movement did not reveal something of his skin that was not what he wished to become public knowledge.
The only surprise that caused him to look up was the sudden sound of a voice. Female and deep for a woman but not unpleasant for it, he looked up to spy the redhead bent over a bow and murmuring what he knew to be a prayer. Whilst his Greek was a little on the rusty side, he was able enough to pick up upon the pertinent verbs and nouns and piece together the fact that she was praying to the Grecian Goddess of the Hunt, blessing and thanking her for ensuring that she had had a meal to eat that night.
The Greeks were a funny sort of people. With so many Gods and Goddesses to honour, it was astounding that they could not see the hypocritical nature of their faith. If there was one being with one mind controlling all then by all means, thank them for the life that had been put before you. But if your Gods held only the power and sway over one small element of your life: your fires, your love, your skills with a bow… Then how were they worthy of thanks when another of their divine brethren might easily quash such a skill. By ensuring that the animals you were intending to hunt were decimated ahead of time, by sending the waves to douse all flames. It was surely at the permission of all the other Gods that the one you were praying to had offered you anything of value. And if that were the case – that your divine being was held to the restrictions of every single other one within a pantheon of nearly a hundred… they weren’t exactly that powerful, now were they?
Not one to lord or chastise someone for their personal faith or life choices, however (for he was sure that there were many to make such comments upon his own), Akhmad allowed the girl to pray without interruption, only the soft crunch of the onion beneath his mask and the scent of its broken layers seeping into the air around them.
Once the vegetable was entirely consumed – for there seemed little point in leaving its core as one might an apple – Akhmad brought his hand down from beneath his mask and rubbed his fingers together in order to (initially) spark the scent stronger, and then rub from his skin the residue that would leave them scented of onion. He avoided using his rags for a means of cleaning his fingers, else he risked smelling of onion for the next few weeks.
Looking about the enclosure, listening to the sound of night birds that had come out to shrill into the darkness, Akhmad licked his lips behind his mask, his light eyes intense. Unlike most, he was content to simply sit in the quiet of midnight hush.
The redhead priestess had to thank Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and nature, for everything. The first memories she had were of the wilderness at the outskirts of Colchis, where she hunted to survive, and where she slept under the stars. The fact that she survived all those years with little human help was a sure sign that she was blessed by the goddess. The priestesses that adopted her told her as much, and she didn’t have any reason to disbelieve it. And since she helped her in such a way, why not dedicate her life to it, and to honor her in every way she could?
Aedea finished her prayer, undisturbed by anything, not even the sound of her companion eating, or the smell of the onion as he did. As someone that spends her time with dogs and in the raw wilderness, hunting and skinning animals, the smell of onion was not something that would ever bother her.
Usually after eating and praying, Aedea would practice her reading and writing, even if she was out of the temple. That’s why she packed some parchment, quill, ink and some basic, easy things she could read. However, it was too dark for it to be easy, so she decided to leave it for tomorrow after breakfast.
Instead, she sat in front of the overly dressed man’s stone, looking at him. The four hounds gravitated towards her, laying down at her sides, and she began to petting two of them with both hands. As she looked at the man, she realized that this has been a good day. She hunted plenty, and found a new person that didn’t judge her. All without even saying a word. She doubted the other sisters would believe it.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
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The redhead priestess had to thank Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and nature, for everything. The first memories she had were of the wilderness at the outskirts of Colchis, where she hunted to survive, and where she slept under the stars. The fact that she survived all those years with little human help was a sure sign that she was blessed by the goddess. The priestesses that adopted her told her as much, and she didn’t have any reason to disbelieve it. And since she helped her in such a way, why not dedicate her life to it, and to honor her in every way she could?
Aedea finished her prayer, undisturbed by anything, not even the sound of her companion eating, or the smell of the onion as he did. As someone that spends her time with dogs and in the raw wilderness, hunting and skinning animals, the smell of onion was not something that would ever bother her.
Usually after eating and praying, Aedea would practice her reading and writing, even if she was out of the temple. That’s why she packed some parchment, quill, ink and some basic, easy things she could read. However, it was too dark for it to be easy, so she decided to leave it for tomorrow after breakfast.
Instead, she sat in front of the overly dressed man’s stone, looking at him. The four hounds gravitated towards her, laying down at her sides, and she began to petting two of them with both hands. As she looked at the man, she realized that this has been a good day. She hunted plenty, and found a new person that didn’t judge her. All without even saying a word. She doubted the other sisters would believe it.
The redhead priestess had to thank Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and nature, for everything. The first memories she had were of the wilderness at the outskirts of Colchis, where she hunted to survive, and where she slept under the stars. The fact that she survived all those years with little human help was a sure sign that she was blessed by the goddess. The priestesses that adopted her told her as much, and she didn’t have any reason to disbelieve it. And since she helped her in such a way, why not dedicate her life to it, and to honor her in every way she could?
Aedea finished her prayer, undisturbed by anything, not even the sound of her companion eating, or the smell of the onion as he did. As someone that spends her time with dogs and in the raw wilderness, hunting and skinning animals, the smell of onion was not something that would ever bother her.
Usually after eating and praying, Aedea would practice her reading and writing, even if she was out of the temple. That’s why she packed some parchment, quill, ink and some basic, easy things she could read. However, it was too dark for it to be easy, so she decided to leave it for tomorrow after breakfast.
Instead, she sat in front of the overly dressed man’s stone, looking at him. The four hounds gravitated towards her, laying down at her sides, and she began to petting two of them with both hands. As she looked at the man, she realized that this has been a good day. She hunted plenty, and found a new person that didn’t judge her. All without even saying a word. She doubted the other sisters would believe it.